Nighthawk

43

Daiyu sat in darkness. She’d been placed in the back of the same truck that she’d hijacked on the mountain road. Her hands and feet were bound with cord, cinched tight by men used to tying off knots that climbers’ lives depended on. Despite hours of trying, she could neither loosen the bond nor pull free.

She’d chafed her wrists bloody from the effort before switching tactics. Sliding herself across the wooden floor of the trailer, she’d gone back and forth until she found a rough spot where a nailhead had worked loose from the planks.

Flipping over, she’d positioned her hands near it, writhing in the dark and rubbing the cord across the nail until her muscles cramped from the effort. Collapsing onto her side, she felt for the edge of the rope. It was damaged and fraying, but she couldn’t tell if it was enough.

She relaxed, waiting for the painful spasms in her back to pass, so she could begin again.

She would get out. They would not stop her. She would complete her mission. And if she got the chance, she’d kill every one of the Americans and their new Peruvian friends in the process.

Breathing deeply but otherwise still, she caught the sound of voices approaching outside. Heavy boots were scuffing against the dry soil of the mountain road.

She instantly redoubled her efforts, grinding the rope across the exposed nail with maniacal intensity.

It had to snap. It had to.

She heard the key hit the padlock and then the handle being thrown over. An instant later, the door slid upward and the white light of day poured in, blinding her.

As she shut her eyes against it, two men climbed into the vehicle, grabbed her by the feet and pulled.

“No,” she grunted, kicking at them. She was so close to freedom.

The men hauled her out and set her on the ground. With a pull and twist, the knot on her legs came undone. Thoughts of running vanished when she tried to stand and fell to the ground on numb legs that couldn’t even support her weight.

She looked upward at the men, squinting in the light. They were only silhouettes. Two standing above her, a third off to the side. A forth shadow just beyond.

The fourth man spoke English to them. “What happened to her? Where did the bruises come from?”

To her surprise, there was a familiar tone to the voice.

“She fought with the American,” one of the Peruvians replied.

“Pick her up.”

They grabbed her arms, lifted her and allowed her to lean against the bumper of the truck. The man who sounded familiar came into view. It was Lieutenant Wu, General Zhang’s aide.

“Black Jade,” he said quietly. “The General is astounded to hear that you have been… subdued so easily.”

Embarrassment flooded through her, the sense of failure peaking so strongly that she could not look at him.

“Untie her,” Wu ordered.

Why these men were taking orders from the lieutenant, she couldn’t guess. But with a nod from the third member of their group, they did as he asked.

The sudden release of her hands brought both great relief and a new wave of pain as she brought her arms in front of her for the first time in hours.

Her hands were caked with dried blood, her wrists rubbed raw from the effort. The cord that had held her captive was frayed within a few strands of breaking. The Peruvian men looked at it suspiciously.

Wu laughed. “You’re lucky I arrived,” he said to the Peruvians. “She would have killed you all.”

They scoffed at the statement, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“Can you walk?” Wu asked.

Daiyu tested her legs. They were tingling with pins and needles, but she would show no more weakness. She nodded and stood.

“Come with me,” Wu said, turning and strolling down the path.

She followed awkwardly, listening as the Peruvian men closed up the truck behind her. The door slid down with a rattle before slamming against the stops. Angry words were exchanged among them.

Daiyu focused on Lieutenant Wu. “Did General Zhang buy my freedom?”

“Yes and no.”

“I failed you,” she whispered. “I’m not worthy of being ransomed.”

Wu laughed lightly. “The General said you would react this way. He also said to tell you he can find diamonds and gold in the ground; that he can either buy or steal them, if he must. But a good operative, one such as yourself, is far harder to come by.”

She felt a wave of pride at the compliment. But it did not change what had happened.

“At any rate,” Wu added, “it’s not you alone that we’ve paid for but the Nighthawk’s cargo.”

Her eyes grew wide.

“There is much you don’t know,” he said, leading her around a bend.

A sleek helicopter sat in the road up ahead. It was guarded by two men with assault rifles. Men from home. Allies.

“How did you find me?”

“You recall the name Falconer?”

“The Russian asset.”

“Our asset,” Wu insisted, “though the Russians think he belongs to them. Falconer was on the second Russian bomber, in charge of overriding the American commands from the Vandenberg. He was supposed to abort the capture of the Nighthawk and direct it back toward our fleet. Where we would grab it once it hit the water.”

“Obviously, he failed,” she said.

“Partially,” Wu replied. “Whether that was by design or happenstance, we cannot say. But as it turns out, the man lives. He contacted us, told us where to find you and where to find the Nighthawk.”

“But the Americans are already there,” she said. “With the man from this camp.”

“Yes,” Wu said. “The Falconer. They are one and the same.”

As she put it all together, she began to laugh. “And to think, I almost killed him.”

“You couldn’t know,” Wu said. “The man has been operating as a triple agent. But the final act is now upon us. General Zhang secured your release with gold. And now, for a pittance in rough-cut diamonds, we will take possession of the cargo.”

A pittance might be fifty million dollars, in Zhang’s terms. But it was truly nothing compared to what they were receiving.

They arrived at the helicopter. The side door was pulled back. A body covered in plastic lay on the floor.

“Jian,” she said. Her brother among the children who had never been born.

“A casualty of the operation.”

She and Wu climbed in, the armed commandos followed and the pilot began the start procedure. A heavy pack was tossed out to one of the Peruvian men who followed them. It clinked like a bag of loose change.

“Krugerrands,” Wu said.

The Peruvians opened it. One was satisfied, but another was frustrated. An argument broke out, in their native language. It was hard to follow with all of them speaking at once, but she understood enough.

She killed them. We should not be letting her go.

It’s been arranged.

I don’t like it… deserves to die…

The sound of the helicopter starting drowned out the rest. But Daiyu could read lips. She focused on the leader of the Peruvian men.

Of course they deserve to die.

Don’t worry. They will.